


Worth Is

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Pining, Romance, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If silence is golden, Chris Trott must be worth his weight in gold.  Alex has never heard him speak a single word in the time they’ve been in class together.  But that hasn’t stopped Alex from developing a huge crush on him. ~Troffy Teencast AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hellos

Alex liked the new kid. Sure, he’d never heard him say anything, but he was smart, and his expression said plenty. Perhaps that’s why he decided to sit down next to him at lunch.

“I’m Alex,” he said, digging into his brown paper bag. “You?”

The new kid didn’t say anything, turning to face him with wide brown eyes.

“Uh . . . sorry, mate, did you want to eat alone?” Alex asked, apple frozen halfway to his mouth.

The kid watched him closely, but shook his head.

“Okay,” Alex said cheerfully, taking a bite out of the apple. “You don’t like to talk? Or you can’t?” Alex asked through a mouthful of apple bits. The new kid visibly recoiled at the sight, turning back to his school lunch and shrugging. He picked up the slice of pizza and took a small bite, eyes focused on the plate before him.

“Mind showing me your name? You have to have it, like, on an assignment or something. It’s kinda weird being just like, hey, you.”

The kid looked startled again, eyes wide, staring at Alex. Why the fuck did he keep doing that, jeez? But he turned to fish around in his backpack, pulling out a book – a fantasy novel, actually, and opened to the inside cover. _Chris Trott_ , the cursive handwriting read. It was neat and precise, nothing like Alex’s chicken scratch.

“Chris,” Alex tested. “Okay. Nice to meet you, Chris Trott.” He held out his hand to shake, and Chris set the book down warily to accept. “Why do you keep looking at me like that? I’m not _that_ weird am I?”

Finally, a smile. More like a smirk. It edged its way onto Chris’ face seemingly against his will, then he raised his eyebrows pointedly at Alex.

Alex grinned back. Although he wasn’t sure why, he felt . . . elated. I mean, yeah, he’d gotten the new kid to smile, but …

Chris’ whole demeanor had shifted. Now he looked playful, mischievous, and Alex was so excited. He wanted – no, needed, to see more.

And that’s how Alex became best friends with the new kid.

~

The teachers couldn’t honestly complain, though they probably wanted to. As time went on, Alex became the only reliable person to speak on Chris’ behalf (though sometimes he did say _interesting_ things that weren’t necessarily accurate). Somewhere along the way, Alex had learned to read the lines of Chris’ shoulders and the curve of his lips and damn if it wasn’t the most frustrating thing of his life.

It was all well and good for _Chris_ , who was finally able to communicate without writing everything out, but it was hell on Alex. He’d always _liked_ Chris, been drawn to him, but now his movements and his sounds, every part of his body and expressions, was imprinted on Alex’s mind. He recognized Chris better than he understood himself.

And goddamnit, Alex had never thought he’d liked guys but here he was, looking up the definition of bisexual on the Internet late at night and reading similar stories about falling for your best friend.

Not that – not that he was _in love_ with Chris. That – that’d be – the worst idea he’d ever had. And that’s saying something about the boy who once set his treehouse on fire.

Chris was straight. Or at least uninterested in dating. Or – anyway. He didn’t like Alex.

~

It was homeroom, and Alex was lounging half on his own desk, and half on Chris’ desk beside him. He wasn’t sure anymore what the teacher was droning on about, distracted by the heat radiating off of Chris’ arm, only a few centimeters away from Alex’s neck.

But he heard as the teacher’s voice got sharp, and she directed her attention on Alex himself.

“Mr. Smith, if you’ll please sit up and pay attention.” Her voice was wearied. She knew it was a lost cause as well as Alex did. But he sat up, brushing his hand through his mussed hair. He grinned at her, and she scowled back.

“Why don’t you share with the class the project I’ve just assigned for you?”

Alex blinked, and turned his eyes on Chris.

Chris smiled, and twirled his finger. Alex turned back to the teacher. “Eh… we’re making films?”

The scowl on her face grew more pronounced. “One of these days…” she muttered under her breath, but Alex had a feeling the class wasn’t supposed to hear that bit. “Okay everyone,” she said, voice at normal volume. “Get in groups of 3 to 4, and sign up here at the front. Once you do that, sit down and come up with a topic for your film, all right?”

Alex turned his eyes back to Chris as the class erupted into laughter and speech. And Chris smiled back, eyes narrowing and nose crinkling, and for a moment the rest of the world faded away.

He was brought back abruptly by a hand slamming down on his desk in front of him.

“Mr. Smith, if you and Mr. Trott would be so kind as to find one or two more members.”

Alex looked around the room at the tumultuous students around them. “Are … are you sure, miss?”

“I did say groups of three to four, didn’t I?”

Alex tried to stave off the nervousness in his gut. People didn’t work well with Chris, and vice versa. He glanced at Chris, whose smile had faded. The shorter boy shrugged and pointed at Alex, and Alex stood reluctantly.

It was like parting the goddamn sea. If he took two steps toward a throng of students, they delicately stepped to the side, allowing Alex to pass by without interacting with anyone.

The teacher was watching him; he could feel her glare against his skin.

No one would look at him.

He was used to this; it’d been this way for a while. Ever since he’d befriended Chris. And, though Alex was loathe to say it, it wasn’t all the other students’ fault; Chris had a glare to freeze over hell, and wasn’t afraid to use it.

The minutes dragged on, torturously slow. Finally, the teacher called his name and he returned to Chris’ side.

“I suppose you two can work together,” she said, voice mollified. “But I expect just as complete of a project as the other teams.”

“Absolutely,” Alex said, and watched as she walked away.

“What a bitch,” he muttered to Chris.

~

Alex watched Chris pick at his sandwich. 

“What’s up?” he asked softly, the rumble of the cafeteria drowning out his quiet words.

Chris shrugged, and set his sandwich down.

“Don’t let the teach get to you,” Alex said. “She’s just a raging bitch. It’s my fault anyway; she knows you’re a suckup.”

Chris sighed and turned to Alex, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, jeez. What _is_ bothering you, then?”

Chris’ eyes, usually expressive, were flat. He let out his breath in a hefty sigh, and looked back down.

Alex tried to accept it. He really tried. But it bothered him when Chris didn’t share with him, and upset him even more when Chris ignored him. That was how he treated everyone _else_ , not Alex.

Alex was different.

“Hey, Chris, answer me.”

Chris shrugged.

Alex crossed his arms. 

“Listen, _Christopher_ , why won’t you just tell me what the fuck’s wrong? Why are you ignoring me?”

Chris turned to face him, finally, and rolled his eyes.

“ _Chris_ ,” Alex whined.

Chris flipped him the bird.

A flicker of anger lit in Alex’s chest. “Fine, enjoy your sandwich. I’m going to class.” Never mind the fact that there were fifteen more minutes of lunch. He stood and threw the rest of his lunch away and turned, walking away without a glance back.

One good thing about having a mute friend is that you always get the final word.

~

He really shouldn’t have done that.

He was lying in bed immediately after getting home, begging off of conversation with his parents by saying he had a headache.

He didn’t have a headache, but he did feel sick to his stomach. Guilt? Fear? He and Chris didn’t usually fight, and he found he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Especially leaving it unresolved like that. Now he had to wait - 15 more hours until he saw Chris again. Fifteen more hours until he could see whether or not Chris’d forgiven him. Damn.

He could excuse himself for his outburst, but he understood why it would be odd to Chris. They were usually caustic to each other; it was a part of the fun. But then it was difficult to say when it wasn’t fun anymore. No one would catch Alex being a pussy.

He loved Chris sarcastic, flat, matter-of-fact. It was funny. _He_ was funny. But sometimes, damn it, sometimes Alex wasn’t looking for funny, and though pretty much anyone who looked at the two of them would peg Chris as the sensitive one, Alex had never seen anything beneath the blasé facade.

It wasn’t fair.

He knew Chris better than anyone. And Chris knew him better than anyone. So why did Chris still hide so much, keep it all layered and balanced behind flat eyes? Didn’t Alex deserve to know, at this point? Hadn’t he proven himself worthy?

Alex’s phone buzzed from its spot on the bed next to him.

He glanced down, and slowly unlocked his screen.

A text from Chris.

_Bored. Wanna come over tomorrow night?_

Alex hesitated, fingers poised above the touch screen of his phone. 

_Bzzz._ Second text. 

_We can play smash bros plus I stole some of my dad’s beer. I wont even make you play trials._

A grin broke onto Alex’s face. A stupid, sappy, grin. He covered it with one of his hands, then reached to his phone’s keyboard. 

_I’ll even play trials. I’ll beat ur sorry ass so hard._

_What was that about my ass???_

A laugh escaped Alex’s lips, and he threw the phone down onto the mattress beside him. Fuck, why did that make him laugh? Why was he such an idiot? 

Grabbing up the phone again, he rapidly typed, _that’s not the only hard thing your ass will have to take_

_Your teeth were gritted when you typed that, weren’t they_

_Your bum was clenched when you wrote that wasn’t it_

_Dick_

_You know it_


	2. Goodbyes

Alex liked Chris’ parents well enough, but they seemed to _love_ him. He figured it was because they were worried when they moved; being mute had to make it hard to make new friends. Alex soaked up their attention greedily, smiling and talking sweetly to them. Once he and Chris had locked themselves in his room, though, the grin took on a sharper turn.

Chris flapped his hand and disappeared into the bathroom, so Alex took the liberty of starting up the Xbox, disgusting console-monger that his best friend was.

The door creaked and Chris stepped out again. “If it isn’t my good friend Chris Trott,” Alex said in a too-loud voice. “Don’t worry, everyone, he’s here, he’s made it, my good friend Chris Trott.”

Chris’ hand shoved at his shoulder good-naturedly as he settled cross-legged beside Alex on the floor. He tugged obnoxiously at the controller in Smith’s hands.

“C’mon, the other one’s right over there!”

Chris turned toward him, eyes wide and pitifully pleading. Alex opened his mouth to reply.

Chris drew his lips into a pout. And suddenly Alex was aware of just how close Chris’ face was to his own and he drew a sharp breath to break his concentration but then the scent of Chris, familiar as anything flooded his nose and—

“Fine,” he snapped. “Fucking take it. Jesus!”

Chris physically recoiled, eyes widening and mouth dropping open in surprise. He scooted backward, away from Alex, and Alex felt his heart drop down to his stomach. “So- Chris, I’m sorry. Fuck, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Chris shook his head frantically, and Alex turned where he sat, holding his hands up and open. “I’m sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean to yell, I didn’t mean it.”

Before he could finish, Chris leapt to his feet and disappeared again into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Shit,” Alex muttered.

For a heartbeat everything was silent. Then the sound of Chris’ sobs penetrated the heavy wooden door and Alex felt dizzy - he couldn’t quite tell if that was the sound of the faucet or of the blood rushing in his ears. He stumbled over to the door and sank to his knees beside it. He leaned his head against the door and listened.

He didn’t understand what was wrong but was too scared to think about it: he’d never heard any sound from Chris but his laugh, deeper than Smith’s own. But these sobs were high-pitched and it sounded like he was choking. Oh God.

Time dragged on, the obnoxious Smash Bros intro music playing mockingly in the background as Chris’ sobs slowly faded. Alex began to breathe again.

The door opened suddenly, and Alex lost his balance, falling forward onto all fours. He was eye to eye with Chris’ bare feet. He rolled over onto his back to look up and saw Chris’ lovely face, red-eyed and tear-stained. A wobbly smile broke out as he saw that Chris didn’t look hurt.

Chris held a finger up to his cheek, dragging it down slowly.

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said. “I’m sorry.”

Chris shook his head and pointed at Alex.

The taller boy reached for his own face, fingers tracing gently along his cheek. He felt the cool wet sensation of fresh tears. Abruptly he pulled himself into a sitting position and brushed them away. His face felt warm. “Sorry,” he muttered to the ground.

Chris knelt down beside him, face close. Alex’s heart thudded in his chest but he forced himself to breathe. He kept his eyes fixed on the middle distance, remembering all too well what had started this.

Then Chris’ arms closed around him, and his head was resting on Chris’ shoulder. Chris’ breath was lightly stirring the hairs on the back of his neck, and if he wasn’t in love with Chris before, he definitely was now.

“No, Chris, I should be apologizing, I’m sorry. I didn’t – I didn’t mean it.”

Chris shook his head lightly, his cheek bumping against Smith’s, and stood, breaking the contact between the two of them. He gestured toward his desk and his laptop.

Alex climbed to his feet and followed him obediently, turning off the obnoxious TV as they passed. He pulled the beanbag chair next to the desk and sat, waiting. Chris quickly clicked through a series of folders, each name stranger than the last. Finally he opened the folder FLS6X, and inside was a series of videos. He clicked on one, seemingly randomly, entitled TESTX15.

The video opened up and Chris sat back, eyes fixed on the window on the opposite side of the room.

Alex watched as the video began to play, and someone showed up on the screen.

It was unmistakably Chris – a younger Chris, with longer hair and a more healthy weight, grinning ecstatically at the screen. And then, God, he spoke.

“Testing the new camera,” he said, in a voice that almost seemed too deep for him. It was perfect. He leaned from one side to the other on the screen, then stood up and made some adjustments to the camera.

“There,” he said triumphantly, sitting again. “Hello, me. Hello, friends.” And he laughed, that same rich sound Alex knew so well. “Okay, awesome.” He reached over again and the video cut out.

Alex turned toward Chris, who steadily avoided his gaze as he sought out another video. He clicked on D73TS, then turned away again.

Chris, again. But skinnier, like he’d been when Alex first met him. His hair was short. And was that – a heavy purple bruise on his jawline. What the fuck.

Chris shrugged in the video, his face drawn. He fiddled with the rubber band that hung loose around his wrist. “Uh-um,” he said, voice shaky. He cleared his throat. “I – I skipped school and they, uh, found out. Followed me to the park, so, um.” He looked down. “I—” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat again. “I—” he coughed. Sighed lightly, his eyes moving to stare directly into the camera. He shrugged. The video cut out.

“Chris,” Alex said, his voice soft. Chris shook his head and went back to scrolling through the videos.

Z. The final video on file. Chris clicked on it and turned away.

Chris’ eyes stared out at Alex through the screen, hauntingly dark against his washed-out face. His hair was shaved close to his head, a neat line of stitches running along his temple. He wore a neck brace, and a cast on his left elbow.

He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Alex watched his Adam’s apple working in his throat, like he was swallowing convulsively. Opened his mouth. Alex could see the tendons in his neck working frantically. A croak escaped him, and then he was hacking. He ducked out of frame, the sound of his cough echoing. And then the video went black.

Alex’s eyes were fixed on the screen, almost hoping for, for something. Chris to come back. Anything. He wanted to see one of the early videos again, wanted to hear Chris laugh and say silly things in that perfect voice of his. But there was only silence.

“Chris,” Alex said, turning to face the smaller boy. Chris finally looked back at him, eyes wide and mouth set in a slight regretful smile. His desk chair was taller than the beanbag chair Alex was sat in, so when Alex spread his arms, Chris toppled forward into his lap, arms tight around Alex’s chest. Alex returned the favor, squeezing Chris against himself in some desperate attempt to negate the bad memories.

He felt Chris’ hair brush his cheek as Chris pulled his head back, dark eyes meeting Alex’s from an uncomfortable proximity. Alex took a deep breath as Chris leaned in. His lips pressed delicately against Alex’s stubbly cheek before pulling away.

Damn it, _damn_ it. Alex let his breath out slowly, attempting to keep a hold on his body and his emotions. Chris tilted his head back, smiling sweetly from so close that Alex couldn’t help but return the kiss low down on Chris’ cheek, next to the corner of his mouth.

_Selfish prick_ , his mind said, but Chris’ smile made up for it.

Chris squirmed on Alex’s lap as he leaned his head forward onto the other’s shoulder. Alex let him, leaning back on the beanbag. Chris ended up lying half on Alex, half against the beanbag, his face tucked into the side of Alex’s neck, his steady breath a reassuring warmth against Alex’s throat.

Alex shut his eyes as they lay there, forcing himself to think of nothing but the sensation of his own lungs expanding and contracting.

~

Alex woke to the creak of the door to Chris’ room opening, and he twisted his head back to catch Chris’ mother out of the corner of his eye. She looked embarrassed but, Alex was confused to see, a bit pleased. Then Alex registered the weight of Chris on his numb limbs.

“Just seeing if you were planning on staying the night. There’s pizza in the fridge if you two get hungry.” She fairly beamed at Alex as she swung the door shut quietly.

Alex felt the flush on his cheeks and turned his head again to look down at Chris, unconscious and crushing Alex’s numb arm. He was practically straddling Alex’s thigh, his legs tucked around it on either side.

He didn’t want to wake him, but his arm was killing him. He reached his other arm around Chris’ waist and shuffled forward. Chris didn’t stir.

Carrying him wouldn’t be easy, but it wouldn’t be impossible either. Shifting Chris’ weight higher onto his lap, he wrapped both arms around Chris’ waist, though the numb one mostly wanted to flop around. He lifted him gently and shuffled over to the bed quickly, laying Chris down.

He stood for a moment, looking down at the other boy. Should he..? He sighed. No use fighting it, really.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down, tugging the duvet out from underneath the two of them with some difficulty. He yanked it up and covered them both.

It was chilly.

Not that chilly.

But chilly enough. He scooted forward, toward Chris, and tentatively dropped his arm across the other’s waist. Chris sighed in his sleep and shifted a little. And Alex was lost once again.

~

Chris’ nose had a bump along the bridge. When it was pointed out, he’d reach up with his left hand and rub it self-consciously, before catching himself and dropping his hand back to his side.

Alex loved it. It gave his profile a distinct look; recognizable from a distance, even without the clunky glasses. It looked… what, dignified? Like an aristocratic nose.

For God’s sake, was every day going to be like this from now on? Alex could feel the flush low on his cheeks. Waxing rhapsodic about basic facial features? At least he wasn’t doing it out loud; he’d never recover from that.

Their lunch table was deserted, except for the two of them. Chris was smiling absently; something he very rarely did. His resting face was usually bitchy. Something between a sigh and a hum escaped Alex without thought, and he felt himself turn red.

Chris looked up at Alex, quizzical, and tapped his temple.

Alex laughed, a little nervously. “Nothing, mate, I just…”

His eyes caught Chris’, and damn it all, he was trapped. His mouth opened of its own volition, and as much as he wanted to hit himself, he couldn’t stop the words from escaping from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful. I --” His throat seized: his body’s desperate attempt to shut him up. He swallowed. “Chris, I love you.”

For fuck’s sake.

Chris’ eyes widened, shock, fear, what else? For once Alex didn’t want to know. He shut his eyes and covered his face with his hand, taking in a shuddering breath and waiting.

Silence. Not that he’d expected anything different.

He opened his eyes.

All he could see of Chris was his back, some meters away. And moving.

He should’ve fucking known better.


	3. Promises

The walk to school seemed extra long; not that it was a surprise. Alex hadn’t actually slept the previous night, and it was already beginning to wear on him. His eyes were burning, nose running, and those were, of course, symptoms of the sleep deprivation.

The trouble was the fact that he shared a good half of his classes with Chris. That was the real problem. He reached school just before the first bell rang, and after considering it, decided showing up to class just wasn’t worth the effort.

He darted down the hallway, blending in with the rush of students headed to class, and pushed his way into the bathroom. He opened the door to one of the stalls and slipped inside.

Usually he’d be a lot more bold skipping class. But he didn’t want to risk being sent back to class and having to sit there and… well. Better safe than sorry.

He waited for fifteen minutes more - enough time for class to enter full swing. Then he stood, slowly pushing open the stall door, and walked up to the sinks.

Great. He looked just about how he felt. His eyes and nose were red, and the rest of his face was drained of color.

He reached out to the faucet, switching on the warm water and watching the heavy rush of water spin around in a tornado before spilling through the grate. He held his hands under the water, and splashed it up onto his face in an effort to normalize his face tone. It worked, a little.

Fine. He’d go out to the tree by the back entrance to the school, the place where all the older kids smoked their stolen cigarettes. He’d wait until lunch, and then go to the rest of his classes, all Chris-free.

Was he going to have to do this for the rest of the school year? he wondered as he darted out into the hallway. Surely not. He’d get over it in a week or so, develop that fine layer of bitterness that was just beginning to cling to him like dew to the grass.

He deserved better than Chris.

Or Chris deserved better than him?

No, this is Chris’ fault, Alex thought to himself. He chose to walk away. He could’ve just as easily said he didn’t feel the same way, and then we could still be friends.

(Probably.)

They could’ve gone on the same way as before, anyway. Whether or not Alex would be able to get rid of his feelings remained to be seen.

A hand gripped his shoulder and yanked, hard. Alex yelped, trying to pull back, but he only felt the stomach-churning sensation of his shoulder socket loosening.

“Fuck!” he shouted.

The one who had a hold of his shoulder was taller than him; a boy Alex recognized from the alleyway behind the school. He and his friends spent more time throwing rocks at people’s pets than attending class, but they were pretty memorable all the same.

“What’re you crying for?”

Alex was sure he wasn’t crying. He was also sure that this behemoth of a teen didn’t care either way. He said nothing, dropping his free hand onto his shoulder above the bully’s grip.

“What, are you deaf?”

Alex grit his teeth and looked down at his shoes.

“Deaf and dumb?” suggested another one of the boys.

“Where’s dumbo, huh?”

“Forgot your hearing aid?”

Alex bit his tongue. Breathed in. And yanked.

Yanked his arm from the bully’s grip. A scream tore through him as he felt his shoulder dislocate, but he kept tugging. The bully let go, surprised by this bizarre tact, and Alex took a few stumbling steps backward, panting breaths escaping him.

Someone must have heard that.

One of the other boys laughed. “What the fuck’d you do that for? You think it’s that easy to get away?” Alex gulped, taking another step back.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him.

Chris.

What the hell was he doing here?

Whatever the reason, he was there. And he leapt forward in a sudden move, hand darting out to land a jab in the soft tissue of one of the boys’ cheeks. “Fuck!” he yelled, and Chris took several dancing steps backward, hands held in a boxer’s stance.

“Chris,” Alex said, imploring. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for. For him to give up? For him to help? Either way, Chris ignored him, swinging a wide roundhouse and landing it on the boy’s upper arm.

“Shit, he gave me deadarm!” shouted the boy, and the other two were quick to step up.

“Hey, fuck off, you little punk,” the tallest said, but Chris held his ground.

The bully tried to grapple him, and their arms seemed to get tangled in each others’. And unfortunately for Chris, his size was not an advantage. The bully managed to lift him from the ground and toss him. It was only a few inches, but enough to send Chris sprawling onto his back.

And then they were coming for Alex.

Shit, shit, shit, the pain in his shoulder was dizzying now, and there was no way he’d be able to actually fight them. He was swaying on his feet. He heard someone shouting distantly; an authoritative shouting. A teacher? Hopefully.

But the bully had almost reached him anyway, hand outstretched for Alex’s arm.

“Fuck! Stop!” Alex heard a voice scream.

It was hoarse, and deep, and unmistakably Chris’.

And then the bully grabbed his arm, and he sank gratefully into unconsciousness.

~

The nurse’s office was quiet.

Alex blinked his eyes open against the painfully bright fluorescent bulbs and closed them just as quickly, feeling a dull ache in his jaw and shoulder. God, that was awful. Why hadn’t they given him any pain meds?

He sat upright, bringing his good hand up to rub his face.

“Y’okay?”

The voice was gravelly with disuse. And Alex knew instantly that it was Chris.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Chris holding an icepack up to the back of his head. His eyes bored into Alex’s, and it was all the taller boy could do to keep his eyes open and focused.

Chris was _talking_.

“I, uh, yeah,” Alex said, nervousness clawing at him.

The silence ate away at them, hands shifting nervously and hearts beating quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said. “I don’t know what to say, really.”

“What - start with the fact that you’re _talking_ , Chris, _jesus_.”

Chris shifted uneasily. “I had selective mutism. It’s not permanent.”

Alex blinked. “So … that’s it then? You’re back to … back to-?”

Chris shrugged. “It depends. I’m feeling okay now.” Alex agreed. Already Chris’ voice was becoming more fluid, deep tones rich rather than hoarse.

“So you, uh, you don’t, um.”

“I don’t need you anymore, do I?”

Alex bit down on his cheek, hard, but that didn’t stop that one from hurting. His eyes shot down to focus on his lap.

“Okay,” he said.

There was a sharp sound as Chris’ icepack hit the floor. “You’re not even gonna fight it, are you, Alex?”

The way Chris’ tongue curls around the “l” in his name is fascinating. He speaks the whole letter, not just the hint of it, like most do. Alex could listen to it all day, given the opportunity.

He cleared his throat. “Last thing I’d want is to be a burden, Chris.”

“What?”

Alex’s eyes rose to meet Chris’. The shorter man looked irate and confused, and Alex almost smiled at the mismatched expression. “Look, what I told you yesterday - I know you don’t, you know, and I --”

Why could he never say anything when he needed to?

“I --” Chris said. “No, you’ve never been a burden, Alex. _I_ have been.”

Alex pursed his lips. “Yeah, but you were one that I _wanted_. I _chose_ to take that burden.”

“So -- so what are you saying?” Chris demanded, vehemence entering his tone. “You’re saying, you don’t, you don’t want me unless I’m broken? You only want someone you can - someone you’re _saving_?”

“What?” Alex rose to his feet. “No! What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Chris said, and there were tears in his eyes. “You - you wanted me because of what I was, a novelty. You had other friends, I know you did, and you dropped them all because I needed help. You just want to be the hero, Alex. And now I _don’t need saving_.”

“You’ve never needed saving, Chris! Jesus, you’re scarier than me on an off day! You were just - I just--”

“What?”

“I don’t have an explanation for it, Chris. I love you and that’s all I know!”

Tears were beginning to fall from Chris’ eyes, and he covered his mouth with a shaking hand. “Don’t lie to me, Alex,” he said, his voice now a whisper.

Alex surged forward, grabbing Chris’ hand and holding it in both his own. “I’m not,” he said. “I’m really not.”

Chris gasped out another sob and collapsed forward into Alex’s arms. He winced, feeling the raw sting in his shoulder, but wrapped his arms around Chris anyway.

“I love you,” he whispered into Chris’ ear, and the shorter boy sobbed again.

Alex buried his nose in Chris’ hair, and they stood together until the nurse returned. But even then, they never let go of each others’ hand.


End file.
